Being Human Page 5

  My words propelled my brother to his feet. He stood over me and glared down. “That's supposed to make it better? I'm supposed say, It's okay, at least they died peacefully? How can you expect that of me?” He paused, trembling as he searched my face for something. “Did you think the fact they were asleep meant it was a blessing? They were spared the knowledge it was you?”

  “I didn't think murdering our parents in their sleep was a blessing,” I stammered.

  “What did you think?”

  For once I avoided his gaze. I stared at the plaque, hating my answer. “I didn't think anything.”

  “Of course,” he replied bitterly.

  “I thought you weren't mad at me. You said you'd be sad for both of us. Why isn't that enough?” I pleaded.

  “Why do you think it has to be enough?” he yelled. “What exactly makes you think I'm okay with what you are?”

  “You said you were okay with it, you accepted me,” I countered.

  “I lied!” Moisture filled his eyes and rolled down his cheeks. “I lied about accepting you as a vampire. I've been pretending and faking, acting like you're still you when you're not! I want my brother back! The twin I knew so well I knew what you were thinking!”

  My heart ached where it lay in my chest, mirroring my brother's pain. I hurt him, badly. It was a terrible concept and reality. One I desperately wanted – needed – to fix. I rose to face him, giving him the only thing I could: the truth. “I know I hurt you and I don't like it, but I can't... I don't feel anything about our parent's deaths. That human I killed was the first time I felt something when I hunted.”

  “Keep going.” His lifeless voice grated against my ears and I hated it.

  “I got this feeling... I didn't like it.”

  He scowled when I fell silent. “Didn't like what? You're not being specific.” Some of his anger faded when I refused to answer or meet his gaze. “Tommy, what happened?”

  I sank back down, tracing the lines of the plaque. I was almost grateful he was forcing me to speak. “I only hunt when I need to, a couple times a week. The humans are subdued, unconscious or I force my will so they don't struggle. But this one I chased and when I did, I felt desire and I wanted more, desired more. More blood and fear. It made me feel like a monster and I don't want to feel that. I don't want to be a monster. I don't want you to hate me.”

  My brother sat back down, his voice soft. “I was lying about not accepting you. It's hard to deal with you sometimes; you make me feel like I’m the only one who feels anything about losing Mom and Dad. And I need to know that’s not true, I need to know that you still feel something.”

  “So you don't hate me?”

  “No, I'll never hate you.”

  A weight lifted off me with those words. I had been certain he'd tell me to leave, force me to leave. I was positive without him the desire would consume and control me until I turned into the monster humans feared.

  “Please don't make me leave,” I whispered.

  “I'm not gonna tell you to leave.”

  “I'm sorry I hurt you by murdering our parents.”

  “I know.”

  “Are you scared of me?”

  “Naw, never gonna be scared of my little brother.”

  “I'm scared. Scared I'll turn into a monster.”

  “I won't let you, Tommy. Promise.”

  ****

  The house was bare. Outlines on the carpet showed where furniture once sat, while lighter squares on the wall showed where paintings and photos had hung. Boxes were piled around doorways, waiting to be moved. Moonlight shone through the bare windows, making what remained look sad and forgotten.

  The emptiness felt weird as I wandered around what had been the living room. This house shouldn't be this empty. It should be full of furniture, the walls covered in photos and paintings. The kitchen should hold a table and chairs, dishes should be stacked in the cupboards. The windows should be draped in colorful curtains, pulled back by ribbons. The rooms upstairs should have beds and dressers. I clearly saw how this house should be; remembered how it looked when I came home after my turning.

  “Where is everything?”

  “Packed up or donated,” my brother replied. He opened a box and dug through the contents. “Except for Mom and Dad's bed, we took that to the dump. Uncle Dick has a storage unit and we’ve been moving everything there. Then when I get my own place after college, I can take what I need.” He laughed, shaking his head. “Can you believe that? When I get my own place. Before, college felt like a million years away, something that didn't matter because I could always come back here, but now I don't know where I can go.”

  “Why can’t you come back here?” I asked. “This is home.”

  He paused his quest, his head bowed and shoulders slumped. “It's not the same. It's been... tainted.”

  “Tainted?” I waited for him to explain. Instead, he kept digging through boxes, ignoring me. “I don't understand,”

  “Of course you don't.”

  “Then explain it to me.”

  “It's tainted because of what happened,” he replied, a hint of fear in his voice. He refused to look at me, keeping his attention on the boxes. “People died here and while that may not affect you, it affects me. Memories haunt me and I’m afraid I’ll lose myself to them.”

  “We should go then.”

  “Just a second...” His voice was muffled as he leaned over a box. “Aha! Got it!” He straightened up, holding a book.

  I wandered over, peering at the book. Photos lined the pages, dates written in a quick hand under each one. I instantly recognized my brother in the photos. The two older humans were our parents, but I barely recognized them.

  “Is that?” I pointed at the last human.

  “You.”

  I touched the image, amazed. A wide, happy smile filled my face, life in my eyes and cheeks. I was alive in this picture! That concept fascinated me. I was curious to know what had been going through my human mind at that moment. What had made me so happy?

  “I was human, a happy human?”

  “Mostly. You were a stubborn jerk sometimes, but then again I was too.” My brother watched me, a hopeful look on his face. “Does this spark anything? Any memories?”

  I shook my head and he looked away, sadness replacing the hope. He had been hoping the pictures would jar my memories. That maybe a human memory survived, buried deep beneath the vampire instincts.

  “Please,” I asked. “Don't ask me to be someone I'm not anymore. I can't be him. I don't remember or know how and–”

  “And you don't want to be,” he finished.

  “Yes,” I replied, staring at him.

  “What?” he sullenly asked.

  “What am I thinking?”

  “I dunno, that I finished your thought?” He looked at me, a light shining in his eyes.

  I smiled slowly so he wouldn't miss the action. “I'm not human, but I'm still your brother.”

  “Unfortunately,” he teased.

  We looked up as lights illuminated the empty living room. A car engine cut off and footsteps crunched on dirt. A loud knock echoed through the empty house.

  “Tom–” my brother started, but I was already hidden. From my perch, I watched him answer the door. “Hello, Officer William.”

  The human strode in and looked around. “Hello, Danny. Received a call there was a car parked outside and movement inside.”

  “Just me,” my brother answered.

  “What are you doing here so late? Don’t you have school in the morning?” The human's voice was scolding.

  My brother clutched the photo book to his chest. “I wanted to get something and couldn't sleep until I got it. Sorry.”

  The human looked at the book, his stern look softening. He placed a hand on my brother and I twitched at the contact, unsure what it meant. “We'll find the vampire, don't you worry, Danny. We'll find it and it'll be destroyed for killing your parents. They were good people. They didn't deserv
e that death.”

  “Yeah, I better get going,” my brother awkwardly replied.

  “I take it that means you didn't tell your aunt and uncle about this nighttime trip?” the human asked with a slight smile.

  “No, sir.”

  “I'll give you an escort back to the city then. Can't have you driving alone at night.”

  My brother cringed. “You don't have to. I'm sure–”

  “Nonsense, it's part of my job.” The human led the way out, head turning as he scanned the night. He stopped, hand going to the gun on his hip.

  “What?” my brother asked, panic raising his voice.

  “Thought I saw something move,” the human replied. “Come on, in you go.”

  I stayed in the shadows as I watched the two cars disappear down the road. With a sigh, I headed back into the empty house. The photo book lay on top of a box and I picked it up, wondering if my brother knew he forgot it.

  Maybe he left it on purpose so I could take it with me. Even though I felt no connection between my human and vampire life, it had been the truth when I told him I was curious. Tucking the book under my arm, I took off into the night.

  ****

  “In other news,” the human on the TV announced, “Vampire Forces was called to a torching on the outskirts of the city. Complaints from neighbors summoned VF where they found ten men, slightly intoxicated, had bound a vampire with silver chain and were dragging it behind their truck while waiting for the sun to rise. VF sent the men on their way and took the vampire into custody where it was later destroyed and the ashes sent to local scientists.”

  I glanced at my brother and he quickly looked away. His shoulders were stiff, a wary look in his eyes. I kept staring, knowing if I gave him my creepy vampire stare long enough he'd cough up what was bugging him.

  “Didn't that bother you?” he finally asked.

  “No.”

  “The newscaster talked about destroying that vampire like they were putting a rabid dog down. The men that caught it were half drunk and were just sent on their way? Shouldn't they have been taken to jail to sit overnight? Something to condemn what they did? How did they even restrain a vampire with silver chain? That doesn't work. None of the old myths work. Wood stakes? Ha! That quickly killed the vampire slayer movement,” he ranted.

  “Old myths?”

  “We've known about vampires our whole lives – I mean when you were human too, you knew. Anyways, before people knew vampires were real, there were stories, fictional stories that told all sorts of absurd things. Wooden stakes, garlic, crosses and coffins; the only thing that was right was sunlight.”

  “Why do vampires die in sunlight?”

  He shrugged. “Dunno, still haven't figured it out. There's like a million scientists working on studying vampires. Well, they claim to only be studying the ashes collected, but there are rumors they have live specimens. It's never been confirmed or denied, but everyone figures that has to be how they've disproved most myths.” He turned the TV off, leaning against the windowsill. “I don't even know why they bother. If you see a vampire, you're supposed to call VF.”

  “You don't like this subject,” I noted.

  He looked away. “We went to one once, a torching. You, me and a few friends. It was on the outskirts of the city. Most vampires are caught in big cities, never in small towns like ours. Everyone was gathered around this pyre, the vampire tied to a post in the middle. It was starved, you could tell. Vampires look like chemo patients when they don't get blood, thin and sickly... sicker looking. Probably the only way they caught it. Everyone cheered and clapped when they lit the pyre. It screamed the whole time, this awful banshee wail. On the drive home we joked about it, but truthfully, we were freaked out.”

  “And now you feel different because of me.”

  He picked up the photo album and opened it, flipping through the pages. “I thought I knew everything, had life figured out. Then you became a vampire and everything changed.”

  I took the book back, staring at my human self. The human me smiled, a sparkle of life in his eyes. “Everything changed because I turned.” I turned to him. “I didn't want to. I remember thinking, Not me.”

  “Denial, they say every vampire gets it,” he sighed, propping his chin on his palm. “It’s why they go back and kill their entire family.”

  “That's not by choice,” I replied. “When I came home, why do you think I hid in my room? I still had memories; they were fading, but I tried to hold onto them and ignore the need I felt. I didn't want to hurt my family.”

  “You remember that?” he asked, hope in his voice again.

  “I remember the feeling,” I said. “The memories disappeared, but I still had this terrible fear of hurting someone, but I no longer remembered who. I understand now it was my family I hadn't wanted to hurt. You.” I looked at him, tilting my head. “I don't miss being human though.”

  “Hard to miss something you don't remember,” he agreed.

  “I'm better off now,” I assured him.

  He frowned at me, but a yawn stopped whatever he planned on saying. “Sorry,” he murmured. “I do not want to get up for school tomorrow.” He paused, looking at his clock. “This morning.”

  “What is the point of going to school?”

  “To bore the crap out of me.” He yawned again, and then glanced at me. “You're serious? To learn.”

  “Learn what?”

  He sighed in frustration. “You're always asking questions. Why this, why that. You don't get anything about humans, do ya?”

  “I get you need to eat to live. And sleep.”

  “You understand survival. Or maybe it's deeper than that. It's the only thing left in you, everything else disappeared.” He nodded thoughtfully.

  I tilted my head, mulling his words. “My caring for you didn’t disappear. Somehow it survived.”

  He looked at me, a tired look in his eyes as he smiled. “Yeah, some things never change… or die.”

  ****

  Energy flowed through me as soon as the sun set. I dug myself out of the ground, shaking dirt off my clothes and washing my hands, face and hair in the lake. I sat on the bank, letting the cool breeze dry my skin, staring at the sky. It was clear, stars growing brighter as the last glow of the sun faded.

  As was my routine, I headed to the city. The streets I travelled were now familiar from walking them on a nightly basis.

  Three rhythms beat on the lower floor when I reached the house. I wandered around, peering through the curtains. In the living room, two humans sat in chairs next to each other, their backs to me. Had to be my aunt and uncle. My brother sat on the couch, a heavy book next to him and a thinner one on his lap. He looked up when my aunt and uncle laughed at the TV.

  “Danny,” my aunt said and I softly growled at her. “Did you take the trash out after dinner?”

  “Um, I forgot. I can do it now.” He set his books aside.

  “Best to wait until tomorrow; don't want any parasites sneaking up,” my uncle said.

  “It's just to the end of the driveway, I'm sure nothing's gonna snatch me.” My brother turned his gaze towards our uncle, his eyes widening when he saw me through the curtains. “I… I’ll go do it real quick.”

  “Take your thrower,” my aunt said.

  “Got it.” My brother darted out of the room. “What are you doing?” he demanded when I met him at the front door.

  I took the bag from him. “I always come here when I wake.”

  “But standing outside the window?” He sighed as he led the way to the end of the driveway. He pulled a lid off a large tin can, releasing a foul smell.

  “I was trying to figure out how to get your attention.” I set the bag in the can. “This stinks like a homeless human.”

  He laughed and replaced the lid. “Well, you definitely got my attention. See you upstairs.”

  I darted around the house, scrambled up the side and waited. He appeared a few minutes later, sliding the window open and
leaning out.

  “Can I see your mini flame-thrower?” I asked.

  He nodded and plucked the device off his dresser, handing it to me. The device was simple, a black cylinder with a nozzle at one end and a trigger. I turned it over, seeing a white sticker full of writing and symbols.

  Warning: Flammable contents. Store at room temperature. Do not freeze! Do not put in fire! To ignite, hold upright and pull trigger. Hold away from face and body. If burned, called 911. Keep out of reach of children.

  “Do you want to light it?” he asked, giving me an encouraging nod.

  I held the thrower out, following the instructions and pulled the trigger. A foot long flame shot out and heat burned my skin. I yanked my hand away and the thrower rattled down the roof and off the edge. I followed it to the ground, scooping it up and climbing back up.

  “Are you okay?” he asked as I handed the thrower back. “I saw a second of flame and you disappeared and reappeared. I think I need a slow-mo switch for you.”

  “I’m fine,” I replied. “What were you writing downstairs?”

  “Homework – school work assigned to do at home.”

  “How does school and homework help you survive?”

  “Some jobs require you to have certain knowledge. And a good job means lots of money, which makes surviving easier,” he replied.

  I nodded, understanding him for once. “And if you don't have money?”

  “You've seen them on the streets, homeless people, begging and asking for spare change.”

  “They do seem to be struggling. Do you have lots of money?”

  He chuckled at me. “Aunt Dee gives me an allowance, but that's the beauty of being fifteen. Money's not that big of a problem, that's the parents' worry.”

  I frowned. “I murdered our parents.”

  Grief flashed through his eyes. “Yeah, they used to worry about money for both of us.” He gave me a forced smile. “Aunt Dee and Uncle Dick worry for me now and money probably doesn’t matter to you anymore.”

  “Next time I hunt, I'll check the human. You can have that money,” I offered.